


Deep as the Ocean

by themirrordarkly



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Blood and Injury, Bottom Steve Rogers, Cecaelias, Depression, Developing Relationship, Fairy Tale Elements, First Meetings, Fish out of Water, Fishing, Flashbacks, Fractured Fairy Tale, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, M/M, Magic, Magical Realism, Masturbation, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Merman Bucky, Merpeople, Ocean, Octo-Natasha, Oral Sex, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Repressed Memories, Scars, Serious Injuries, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Some Humor, Soul Bond, Spells & Enchantments, Steve Rogers Feels, Top Bucky Barnes, Touch-Starved, Touching, implied soulmates, merman, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 03:45:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11865990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themirrordarkly/pseuds/themirrordarkly
Summary: The newly established charter boat business is booming for ex-military man, Steve Rogers. Being the captain of the charter boat 'End Of The Line' is a dream come true--but he doesn't have anyone to share in his success and good fortune. Everything changes when he finds a sexy, mysterious stranger washed up on the beach. The chemistry is undeniable, like two old souls connecting. But Bucky Barnes isn't the man he claims to be, having only three months to achieve his goal or suffer the terrible consequences. Can he succeed and claim what he lost? Steve and Bucky's worlds will collide, changing both their lives forever. A modern retelling of a fairytale, with a twist!





	1. Gift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elendrien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elendrien/gifts).



> This is my submission to the sbb2017! Please enjoy!
> 
> The wonderful art that goes with this fic is done by elendrien! Thank you so much! I just adore it!  
> https://elendrien.tumblr.com
> 
> ****  
> The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach – waiting for a gift from the sea. -Anne Morrow Lindbergh

 

 

Steve on his morning jog along Kirk Park Beach wasn’t expecting to find a half-naked man washed up on the shore. Correction--fully naked. The seaweed and sand obscured that he had no clothes on. Steve slowed down his pace to check out the man. This stretch of beach was pretty desolate this time in the morning, so Steve wasn't expecting to see anybody. He wasn't sure if he was seeing things either. If that, yes, there was a naked man lying in the surf, unconscious. Steve’s brain finally kicked in when he realized-- _Oh God, he could be hurt!_ So Steve rushed over to the man to help, kneeling down by him.

The man’s body was covered with a fine moisture, chest steadily moving up and down. Steve placed his ear near the man’s nose and mouth, and felt a warm breath on his cheek. His fingers carefully ran over the man’s arms and legs, searching for cuts and broken bones, his skin feeling chilled. He traced over some coarse, deep scarring on the left shoulder and upper arm. It was an old wound, healed imperfectly, but healed, nonetheless.

The man’s long hair had fallen across his face, obscuring it, but Steve could still make out the high cheek bones and impossibly long lashes. There were also two tiny scars on the sides of his neck, parallel, identical as if they were tattooed there. They were unlike the scars on the shoulder and arm, being too perfect to be an accident.

Steve grabbed under the man’s arms and dragged him further up the shore, leaving a trail of black seaweed and small minnows in the sandy wake.

 _Shit, the guy was heavy._ Steve’s eyes quickly swept over the man’s nude body taking in the toned physique. The long, sleek muscles of a swimmer. Which was making him as heavy as dragging a marlin up the beach. _Fuck._ Steve grumbled as he tugged the dead weight, 20 more feet up the beach, his own muscles getting a workout.

The man started to groan, slowly regaining consciousness as Steve finally got him far enough from the water. He blinked up at Steve with incredibly blue eyes shot through with silver, his face, model handsome. Steve’s brain short-circuited. He was not attracted to this idiot! He wasn't. Steve was bad at lying to himself.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, “I found you out by the surf, unconscious.”

The man nodded, not speaking, as he rubbed his hand over the back of his head like it hurt.

“Sit here and I'll get you some water and something for the pain” Steve ran to his Jeep Cherokee which wasn't too far away and grab some bottled water. Steve was going over a mental checklist of first-aid things he could do, wondering how to handle a possible concussion. He found a bottle of ibuprofen and took that too.

Steve came back with the water, uncapping it and handed it to the man, who downed it in several very thirsty gulps. It was a hot September day, but not too hot, because it was still early morning. But a little odd, he'd enjoy the water so much after being in the cold ocean. It's not like he was in the surf washed up, but still he probably was parched from the exertion and salty water.

“Do you need anything for your head?” Steve held up the headache medicine, shaking the bottle a little.

The man stared at the bottle, eyes narrowing slightly, before shaking his head once. “No,” he croaked, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat to try again. “No, I’m fine.” And his voice was soft and rich, but weak sounding.

“Come on, let's get you dry. That water is freezing,” Steve offered a hand for the man to get up. “I got something in my Jeep.”

The other man waved off the hand and stood up slowly, a little wobbly, brushing off dirt and sand, before pulling off a small blue crab that was cramped onto his hair. The crab simply released its pinching claws without any fuss, which was unbelievable. The man carefully dropped the crab, and watched it scurry off.

Steve shook his head “You have to be either high or drunk to be swimming out here buck naked,” Steve said as they made their way to his Jeep. Steve was trying hard not to stare at the man with all his sleek muscle and glutes made of steel. _Jesus_ , his body was perfect like he was sculpted from marble.

“Neither,” the man said, looking dead serious.

“I bet, so what happened? It’s too cold to be swimming here.”

“No, I find it natural to swim without clothes, like nature.” The man sidestepped the question a little, but Steve didn't push.

Steve wondered if the guy was some hippie wannabe. He gave him a blanket from the backseat of his Jeep Cherokee. “Here, humor me.”

The man grabbed the blanket and rubbed it over his arms and legs,  before wrapping it around his midsection quirking his lips  as he did so. “There are you happy?”

“Yes, I am happy now. It's like, seriously, what were you thinking?” Steve shook his head. "I have some spare clothes in the Jeep. I can give them to you when we ride into town, because I think it would look awful funny if you only have a blanket on.”

The man shrugged, but he didn't disagree and he took the clothes that Steve offered him.

The man was insanely attractive as he pulled on the spare jean shorts and slipped on the old faded blue shirt that had ‘Peggy’s Crabby Shack' stenciled in bold red across his chest. The shirt was a fairly fitted medium on Steve, but was a little looser on this man. His long, dark hair skimmed his shoulders leaving damp wet strains on the shirt. Eyes a steely blue, his stare like a bullet. Steve couldn't help feeling a physical pull toward this man. His insides spiked as he felt blood rushing to his groin. Steve turned and busied himself getting his keys, trying not to let the other man know he was getting a boner just by staring at him.

“Can you drop me off in town?” The man asked.

“Sure, where.”

“A place that has food.” And the man smiled, which did something to Steve’s brain because, wow!

“Sure, what’s your name? I’m Steve.” And Steve held out his hand for the man to shake.

“Bucky.” He didn’t take the offered hand and slipped both his hands in his pockets.

“Last name?” Steve felt a little foolish and dropped his hand back to his side. This was the second time he refused the offer. The first time he didn't think anything of it, however this time it was clear; he was avoiding touching Steve. Why?

The man squirted a little at him and shrugged. “Nah, just Bucky.”

The name somehow fit. The nickname old fashion, but down to earth, solid. But as Steve looked closer at him—Bucky seemed anything but down to earth, more unearthly. The way the other man looked at him, his eyes seemed to shear into his very soul. It was both unsettling, yet compelling. As he stared back, Bucky turned away and headed to the passenger side of the Jeep.

Steve got in, starting the engine before he turned to talk to Bucky.

“You’re lucky you didn’t drown out there.”

“But I didn’t.”

Steve glanced over, inspecting the bump at back of the man’s head. “Do you know what happened?” Steve had to ask again.

“Don’t remember. I was swimming and then it’s all kind of blank.”

Steve wasn’t sure if he believed him or not but he let it slide. “The undertow is pretty strong out by the pier. Maybe you hit one of the supports.”

“Yeah, could be.” The man touched his head and winched.

“Maybe you should have a doctor check that out. I could drive you to a clinic instead.”

“No, doctors.” Bucky said, shaking his head. He closed his eyes, blowing through his nose as his left hand came up to touch his head.

Steve knew the other man was hiding the pain he was in so he pushed a little more. “I have a friend that runs a sport’s clinic, Sam, he could check if you got a concussion.

“I heal fast.” Bucky glanced over at him, his lips twitching into an almost smile. “You are a stubborn one.”

Steve shrugged. “Well, the same can be said about you.”

“You don’t know me.” But Bucky’s lips were moving into a closed mouth smile which shifted the sooty shadows from his eyes, and turned his face into something more youthful and light.

“Yep, stubborn,” Steve said as he turned the key to the engine and shifted gears to pull away from the side of the road. “You’ll like Sam.”

Bucky said nothing and settled in for the ride.

He didn’t like Sam or rather Sam didn’t like Bucky.

 

_*Sam’s clinic*_

 

“So you found him washed up on the shore like a piece of driftwood?”

“He even had a blue crab attracted to his hair.”

“Jesus…” Sam shook his head.

“No, Bucky. His name is Bucky.”

“And that’s all you know?”

“Come on Sam, check if he has a concussion or something. He nearly drown.”

“You are the one that needs his head checked. Does he have any ID?”

“He was naked.”

“Jesus.” Sam’s drew his hand down over his face.

“He could be a transient. It does happen even in Montauk.”

“Did you ask him?”

“It’s not something you ask right away. ‘Hey, are you homeless?’”

“Yes, you do.”

“Jesus Christ, Sam, just give it a rest. It took all of my persuasion skills to get him here to see if he really is hurt. Don’t make me regret taking him here.”

“So all two of your brain cells and half an ounce of charm did it?” Sam cocked an eyebrow at him.

“He said no doctors.” Steve let out a sigh.

“I’m a physical therapist.”

“Technically, not a doctor.”

Sam’s eyes glance over to his degrees and certifications and license framed on the wall in his office and looked back at Steve. “Fine,” he said crossing his arms.

“Off the record.”

No, on the record, I’m not losing my license for you. Dammit, Steve you make this a habit.”

Sam was right about that. Last time he brought in a sea turtle that somehow swallowed hundreds of coins and was sick. Sam protested he was not a veterinarian or a zookeeper, yet he found a wildlife preserve that had an expert that could help the turtle. It was like that with him and Sam. They both met at the V.A., and somehow along the way they ended up in this friendship where Sam tried to keep it real, and Steve had these idealistic and hairbrain ideas.

“Please, Sam.” Steve wasn’t above begging.

“I’ll enter him as a John Doe and push the paperwork back.”

“Sam…”

“No, it’s the best I can do. You also owe me a lobster dinner at the Blue Sea country club.”

“Done.” Sam drove a hard bargain.

Steve waited around for Sam to finish his examination of Bucky. He wanted to know the results, being concerned for the other man as he didn't know how long he lost consciousness.

Sam finally came back into the office after the examination. He wasn’t too surprised to still see Steve there waiting.

“The scars are old, real old. It looks like it happened before puberty. It’s fully healed and functional now. It might not even hurt much,” Sam said as an intro.  It threw Steve a bit, because he wasn't curious about the scars, he wanted to know about the man's head.

“Hurt?”

“Well that amount of scarring and whatever happened. I don’t have an MRI and the X-rays aren’t ready yet. But the scarring would be go below the surface. Scar tissue as you might know isn’t as flexible and the bone later on as age sets in will become arthritic.

“When?”

“Thirty-five, maybe. There is only so much wear and tear the human body can take before it starts breaking down—repeated use, injury, all take their toll. But exercise and massage therapy does wonders. The swimming, what are boy was trying to do, does help.”

“And his head?”

“It’s fine. The bruise will be sore for a few days. He passed the concussion test with flying colors. But to be on the safe side, don’t have him sleep for at least twelve hours and no loud stimulations.”

“What about eating?”

“Eating is fine—look, I told him all this and now I’m tell you. Are you going to watch over him all day?”

“Don’t know, didn’t think that far ahead.”

“Didn’t think so. I know you are worried, but don’t be. The guy is disgustingly healthy.”

Steve snorted at that, then got serious. “Sam, I know you don’t have the equipment here, but why were you so interested in the old injury?”

“Habit, I guess when I see something like that my training just takes over.”

“What caused it, you know, don’t you.”

“It’s just an educated guess, but yeah.”

“What then?”

“Shark attack.”

 

***

After the clinic, as promised, Steve took Bucky to get food.

Steve was driving while the man, Bucky with no last name, was staring out the window. He appeared a little slacked jawed, his eyes darting from building to tree, to someone walking a cute pug. Steve wondered if it was the effects of getting conked on the head, or maybe he was new to this part of Long Island that was slow paced, picturesque, and resort like.

Steve knew a great place run by a good friend, Peggy's Crabby Shack. The t-shirt that Bucky was wearing was advertising it. Steve got it volunteering to help out Peggy during the Memorial Day rush. They met back in college, dated a while, but it never got too serious. They were too much alike-- headstrong, goal orientated and stubborn. She also had a wicked sense of humor, which Steve lacked. They stayed fast friends; he always confided in Peggy because she just had so much common sense.

She ran the Crabby Shack like a Maryland Chesapeake Crab Shack. Succulent crab laid out in big buckets on brown paper covered tables with tiny little printed crabs on them and plenty of Old Bay and apple cider vinegar for the crabs. The wooden crab mallets ready to crack open the crabs. It always was a busy place, and Steve thought that Peggy might need some assistance for cleanup. Steve had a funny hunch that Bucky might not have a job or maybe new to the area. But that's just Steve assuming that. He could secretly be a millionaire on vacation, but Steve instincts had him doubting that.

Steve didn't want to assume that Bucky was homeless, but he hasn't been very forthcoming with any information. He was listed as a John Doe at the clinic. He didn't even know his last name. He could just be a guy down on his luck. So Steve assumed that maybe, he might be looking for some place to stay and he knew that Peggy would be accommodating to help out with something like that or a job.

They arrived at the restaurant. It was set back by the water and it had an outcropping and covered canopy that had many tables with people already dining. There was plenty of shade so that people wouldn't get too hot. There also was an Oyster Bar that offered fresh clams and oysters. It was kid friendly because there was so many families. He was able get Peggy away from hosting.

“Peggy, it's good to see you,” Steve said.

“Likewise,” Peggy said, giving a smile.

She was a handsome woman, quite beautiful, in fact, with black curly hair and a percentage of always wearing bright red lipstick. She was in an apron and looks like she was right in the kitchen helping with the kitchen staff.  It did look like she did need some help so Steve asked if she was looking for any assistance.

“Well it is off season, but that's the problem. Many of my university people went back to school, and I have been getting a bit of a rush. Especially, around the Labor Day. I could use an assistant to help clean up,” Peggy explained.

“Bucky, this is Peggy an old friend,” Steve said as an introduction. Bucky was hanging back from the conversation, his eyes down casted, biting at his lower lip. He didn’t appear comfortable. But when Steve mentioned his name he perked up, straightening his shoulders and approached Peggy, smiling.

“Hi, I am Bucky. Steve here has been showing me around town.” Bucky stuck out his hand, and Peggy gave a firm handshake.

The handshake was odd, because he didn't shake Steve's hand. He didn't want to feel slighted, but he didn't understand.

“Any friend of Steve's is a friend of mine,” Peggy said, “I hear that you might be looking for a job.  If you don't mind hard work and using a little elbow grease, I think I have something for you.’

“Maybe, it just depends on how long I stay in town. But I could use a little coin.” Bucky smiled, rocking back on his feet. Which Steve realize were in flip flops, and he might have got those at the clinic. Bucky really didn't have anything, it seemed. But appeared like a laid back guy, turning on the charm when needed. Which would could fit in quite nicely in this type of town.

“Well,” Steve said. “We can discuss this after lunch. You'll find this is an easygoing town.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Thanks,” Bucky said.

They took their seats overlooking Lake Montauk. The fresh water lake was a prize with clear waters and gentle surf. A commercial fisherman's heaven. While lots of venues and restaurants dotting its shores. Boats sailed in the backdrop of blue skies and fluffy clouds. He had his fishing charter business based here. His two boats in slips not too far off.

Steve decided to do the ordering, because he knew what was really good at Peggy's. Bucky just sat there and looked at everything from the crabs,to the oysters, to the bar, to the paper spread out on the table, and he looked a little confused.

“So the crabs? They're cooked.” Bucky's eyes widen with surprise.

“Well, ‘course, they're cooked they have to be boiled at least twenty minutes otherwise, they will be alive,” Steve replied. “Can't have them come out in ten minutes. Always got to send them back, because they are not done.”

Bucky worried at his bottom lip with his teeth, slightly frowning. It appeared he was thinking about something really hard, his brow wrinkling.

“There is the raw oyster bar,” Bucky nodded in the direction of the bar.

“So you like raw seafood?”

“Sure. It tastes good that way.” Bucky gave a soft smile, that disappeared too quick.

“Well, they do have raw clams and oysters over there, but I'm sure you'll love the blue crabs,” Steve explained enthusiastically, “They're great. And if you're not sure, and you never ate them Chesapeake style, I can show you. Because I guarantee, you haven't lived until you've tasted Peggy's recipe for crabs.  It's just the best.” Steve placed the menu down and sipped from his glass of water.

Somehow they ended up ordering a dozen fresh oysters on the half-shell dozen and a kale Caesar salad for Bucky, and he ordered steamed clams in garlic, white wine and lemon pepper butter with a side of garlic bread. He wasn’t sure how Bucky got him to forgo ordering the crabs. Maybe it was that smile. Steve sighed, maybe next time he'll be able to get those blue crabs.

“What are you looking at,” Bucky said, giving a puzzled look, as he set down his fork. He had caught Steve glancing at him, throughout lunch.

“I'm looking at you?” Steve said. He wasn't going to deny it.

“What? Do I have a piece of kale in between my teeth?” Bucky rubbed at his front tooth.

“No.” Honestly, Steve was a little in love with Bucky already, and he only met the guy a few hours ago.

Steve knew he was in trouble, but he just couldn't help himself.


	2. Shorelines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because there’s nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it’s sent away. –Sarah Kay

***

Steve decided it was his duty to watch over Bucky for the next twelve hours, to watch to see if there was any concussion symptoms or he so he told himself. What he really wanted to do was show Bucky around town and show Bucky his pride and joy, his boats.

“Steve, you don't have to do this,” Bucky said. He was standing by the Jeep, looking indecisive, crossing his arms, pressing his lips together in a thin line.

“But I want to,” Steve said pulling out his keys. “Do you have some place to be?”

“Not today.” Bucky shrugged.

“So let me show you around.” Steve loved talking about this town. It made him a good tour guide when he took families out fishing. His knowledge of this area.

“So are going to be my watcher?” Bucky asked, rising an eyebrow.

“Watcher?” Steve was opening the Jeep’s door and had to turn around, perplexed, eyes widening slightly.

Bucky glanced away. “Maybe that's the wrong word,” he mumbled. 

“If you mean, babysitter, no. You are much too old for that. Think of me as your guide.” Steve stood by the open door. “The passenger side door is unlocked.”

Bucky nodded. “Guide, I like that.” Bucky got in the vehicle.

Steve drove down to the marina where the boats were docked. He caught a glimpse of his own boat from here. This is where he worked running Captain Rogers’s Charters.

Steve's custom Davis 34 Center Console was a beauty with sleek lines, painted white with a blue stripe at the waterline. The boat was ready and able for a smooth ride in a high traffic harbor or stormy choppy waves. A walkabout with added seats in front, ice chest, forward fish box, built-in fishing platform and enough space for racks and poles. It was equipped with the lastest scanning sonar transducers and onboard cameras, plus a FLIR thermal camera which helped him navigate at night with a bright skyline, avoiding every buoy and obstacle. Powered by two huge CAT engines, it cruised up to 22 knots. It is was built for comfort and speed. ‘The End of the Line’ was his dream. He also had a second boat, a 19 foot Sea Skiff, called ‘Best Girl’, he used for inshore fishing and light crabbing.

Steve’s charter business had people design their own fishing adventures, whether they were looking for a family outing, hardcore sports fishing, or corporate event. The trips could range from three hours to overnight. Inshore. Offshore. Or around Block Island. Or through Plum Gut. And the catch was varied from fluke to bass to mako. He also went with a first mate to help keep everybody hooked and casted all day long. Steve took pride in fishing. It was in his blood from his Uncle and Dad. A lifelong desire and Steve loved to help others develop their skills to be the best that they want to be, be it weekend anglers or seasoned sports fishermen. He was constantly searching for the best catch, watching the tides and currents, and listening to the bait shop reports to ensure this.

***

Steve stopped at the local bait shop run by Clint Barton called Hawkeye Bait & Tackle. Clint was behind the corner, feeding his dog, Lucky.

“So what's biting, Clint?"

“Don't you ever get tired of that old cliche?” Clint gave out a good natured chuckle.

“Nope.” Steve grinned back.

Clint scratched behind Lucky’s ear. “There's good fluke action on the bay off Montauk. The ocean side had a drop off due to that storm offshore. There has been some yellow fin and bunker, but they not biting often.”

Bucky spoke up. “There some threshers and makos off at the inlet of Fire Island.”

Steve looked back at Bucky, questioning.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Clint said, "I heard a rumor about that.  Hey, what else did you hear?” Bucky had Clint's full attention now as he stopped fussing over Lucky, placing both his hands on the counter. Lucky whined abit, before settled down for an afternoon nap by Clint's feet.

Bucky and Clint  proceeded to talk for the next hour about fishing and where the best catches were that week. Steve couldn't keep up and he was impressed with Bucky's knowledge.

When they exited the bait shop Steve had to ask. Steve was excited to find someone so informative about the fish in the waters of Long Island. 

“So where you're from?” Steve wanted to know, because this man was good. 

“Indiana.”

"You're kidding me, right?” 

"No, it says so right in my ID.” 

“I thought you didn't have any ID.”

Bucky just smiled. “Sure I do. I just left it back at the place I was staying.”

“So you don't need a place to stay?” Steve tried not to sound disappointed. 

“No, it's not much, just a little shack I'm staying at. I don’t plan to stay there long.”  Bucky nodded with all seriousness, but then he smiled. “However, could use work.”

“So what’s the last name on your ID?” Steve asked all curious, quirking an eyebrow.

“Barnes, James Barnes.”

***

“I’m going to hire him as a first mate.” Steve mentioned this next time he saw Sam.

“Are you crazy?” Sam questioned.

“No, he has knowledge of these waters that takes years to learn.”

“But is he good with kids?”

“What?”

“Your charters, the family ones—kids?”

“Oh sure.”

“You sure? He is a pretty intense dude. I mean, will he scare the kids or worse ignore them?”

“I’m sure it will be okay?” But Steve sounded unsure. He’d have to make certain he feel Bucky out about that.

Turned out Bucky was great with kids. In fact, fantastic. Steve was jealous. Jealous how the kids were held in rapt and awe on Bucky’s every word as he spun one sea tale after another.

The kids loved him and the parents too because they could fish and not worry about the kids. They even asked for him if he was on the crew for that day. Yes, Steve was jealous.

A good few weeks past and Steve never regretted the decision.

***

Steve found him a crowded room at the fishing shack, staring, staring with enigmatic eyes of crystal blue. A storm cloud waiting on the horizon. He was instantly drawn to him, two loadstones clicking together, having to slide to pull apart.

Bucky became first mate to his captain as they went out to sea with his gathered crew. A side commercial job. Blue Crabs and Bucky knew were hundreds laid, so many the nets nearly burst and the cages bent, groaning under the weight of the haul.

Steve made the month's quota and then some and called Bucky his good luck charm. Bucky just gave a shy smile and looked away to stare into the vast sky with the high thin clouds and glass still ocean.

  
“There’s a storm coming," Bucky said in a soft tenor that was both whisper and warning.

Peering at his instruments of the boat, he saw no sign, but nodded to his crew to store the nets and cages and pull up anchor.

****

On a whim, Steve invited Bucky to stay at his lighthouse to weather out the storm instead of going back into town Bucky took him up on his offer.

The storm raged that night, angry foaming waves crashing against the rocks and splitting apart a section of the boardwalk. Yet in the lighthouse, they were isolated, secure from the roaring world.

“I will protect you,” Bucky said.

“How?” Steve asked.

Bucky gave a quizzical look, eyebrow cocked. Are you questioning my ability?”

“No, no, it is just what, the ocean, the storm. You can’t promise that.”

“Of course, I can.”

Bucky was an enigma, wrapped up in a puzzle and topped with a question. He was mystery, not a mystery, but the definition of mystery. Elusive like smoke, but constant like the tide. And Steve had an easiness around him, like an old memory from yesteryear. As if he knew him long ago, far away and it lingered like a thin silver cord, connected. He didn’t understand Bucky, he was an enigmatic, but he knew he had this feeling, déjà vu, a dream, a past life, if he believed in reincarnation. He just simply knew him.

As the storm continued Bucky decided to quietly start reading a book. Steve had many books, a small library really, because it was lonely the months he stayed at the lighthouse, and it kept him entertained. Basically there were many, science fiction, popular fiction, books on cooking and maps of the sea. It looked like Bucky decided to pick up and read 'Thousand Leagues Under the Sea' by Jules Verne, an old classic.

Bucky’s hair became unbound and cascaded to his shoulders as he read and Steve wanted to reach out to see if it was as silky as it looked. In a dream he did, in reality he stayed his hand at his side.

“Can you braid hair?” Bucky looked over his shoulder, eyes down casted, voice quiet, before nervously biting his lower lip.

“I can try. I’ve done my niece’s hair once or twice, years ago.”

Steve cleared his throat, his heart thumping hard and slow as if stuck in molasses. Taking the hair is his hands, he carefully separated it in threes. The texture was extra-ordinary, thick silk, heavy. The color of burnt sienna and it gleamed in the soft light like a gem.

And Bucky leaned into the touch, eyes closing, lips parted as Steve caught his reflection in the dresser’s mirror. The wariness, relaxing into a mask of peace and trust.

Steve’s fingers ventured down the back of Bucky’s neck, a light brush, and Bucky stilled, before letting out a keening sigh that was high, soft and musical. His head dropped down more, exposing more skin, shoulders loosening. Steve’s large hand gently cupped his neck before trailing across Bucky’s right shoulder, feeling the knotted muscles under yielding skin relax to his subtle sweeping touch.

“Is this okay?” Steve asked in a quiet murmur.

“Yes.” Bucky’s voice was muted and thready, the tenor, trembling over the word. He cleared his throat. “Yes.” In a more steady tone that was a satin whisper that went straight to Steve’s groin.

Steve sat there, slowly braiding Bucky’s hair until Bucky pulled away, unfolding himself, impossibly graceful and limber for sitting for so long.

“Thank you.” And Bucky retired to up the stairs to a separate sleeping area.

Steve was left with a raging hard-on he didn’t know quite what to do with. He glanced out the small window and the storm had lessen. Standing up, he strengthen the kinks out of his body, turned to look at the clock and froze. Three hours passed. _What the hell?_

Steve stripped and entered the shower, turning up the water full force to drown out the groans. A rough right hand, pumping and squeezing. His cock full and aching and he imagine Bucky’s mouth, clever tongue licking the thick underside veins and he came with a harsh cry. Shaking, heart pounding as he came so hard all he saw was a blinding, brilliant white before touching his forehead to the cool tile and letting the water wash away the milky semen that coated his hand, spattered at his feet and down the drain. He stayed that way until the water grew cold.

***

They have been living in his lighthouse for over a week now, and Steve couldn't take it anymore. Yes, Steve did invite Bucky to stay for a bit after the storm so he only had himself to blame. He was going nuts with the attraction for Bucky so he had to do something about it or he’d have to take more cold showers, and he didn't really want to do that anymore. So he had to just explain to Bucky how much he was attracted to him. Though the conversation went a little stilted, and Steve was a lot out of practice, he'd somehow got it across what he meant.

At dinner he decided to bring it up, after dessert; it was a little awkward, but he did it.

“I am bi,” Steve said in confession.

Bucky stared at him in confusion, “Your sexual orientation?”

“Umm...Yes?” Steve felt all kinds of embarrassed as he stumbled over his words, maybe he was reading Bucky all wrong?

Bucky’s eyes cast down at the floor, shadows of his long lashes graced his cheekbones, lips parted, a pink nervous tongue darting out, then closed.

“I don’t know,” Bucky whispered.

“What your orientation is?”

“Yes.”

“So…no.” Steve couldn’t hide the crushing disappointment in his voice. He pasted on a tiny smile to hide the hurt.

“But...” Bucky looked up, his hand coming up, a thumb brushing carefully over Steve’s cheek. “But, I want you.”

“That's good, that's good,” Steve said. “So do you do want to do about it?”

Bucky purses lips. “Well, I do have some ideas.”

Steve didn't realize the ideas that Bucky had would turn out so  aggressive, but he wasn't he complaining, just the opposite. He was absolutely enjoying it even if it might kill him.

***

Bucky was on the bed in one smooth motion—straddling Steve, his knees on either side of his hips, both hands flat on the mattress.

The dinner conversation went very well so Steve was in his bed with Bucky hovering over him, looking like some sex god.

“Take my shirt off.” Bucky whispered, his intense eyes--liquid silver in the dim light.

Steve hands gripped the bottom of Bucky’s t-shirt and worked it off—making sure his knuckles grazed Bucky’s warm skin and muscled torso as he lifted it over his head and tossed it aside. Bucky’s eyes dilated at the light touch, his mouth parting in a quiet pant. Steve raised up a hand and reached behind Bucky’s head pulling his hair tie loose. The thick hair fell slowly out of the tie, falling partly in Bucky’s face. He didn’t move his hands to brush it out of his eyes and the look was devastating.  Wild, untamed, as Bucky’s eyes flickered hungrily over him, like he was prime rib. Steve’s pulse pounded and blood rushed to his cock.

Bucky leaned down and let his lips brush over Steve’s exposed nipples. A playful nip and a dart of a wet tongue.

“You like that?” Bucky smiled up at him like the cat that ate the canary.

“Yeah.” Steve fought the urge to touch Bucky’s shoulders as he worked on his nipples one at a time. He didn’t want to have Bucky stop. The slow delicious pain and pleasure was almost too much, but it was so good. Steve found himself whimpering at each small bite and smoothing lick.

“Buck…please.”

Bucky took his fingers and get a quick twist of at one lovely abused nipple and Steve nearly arched off the bed. “Oh god!” He nearly came on the spot just from that. His dick was throbbing so hard.

“Kiss me,” Bucky hummed and hovered a hair’s breath over his lips, his hair dusting across the pillow.

And Steve obeyed like he was a drugged man. Grabbing the back of Bucky’s head and lifting his own to claim Bucky’s lips in kiss like he was a man dying of thirst. Bucky keened and Steve’s teeth pulled at his bottom lip, lips parted and tongues meeting in a fierce, demanding kiss. Bucky’s hands anchored in Steve’s hair as he did a hard, rhythmic grind straight into Steve’s groin.

Steve pulled back panting, “Buck, please, oh fuck, want your mouth on me…”

Bucky thumbed Steve’s lips, before licking his own thumb. “I like this look on you.” And smiled his teeth bright and white in the dark. He looked feral, his eyes wide and black. The blue silver irises all but gone. With near impossible sinuous grace, he moved down to loosen Steve’s jeans and yanked them down to his thighs, along with his boxer briefs. Steve’s cock was free and it curved, full and erected and Bucky eyes devoured it.

“Well, look at that.” Bucky’s voice was rough, even with the teasing tone.

“God Bucky, please…” Because what more could Steve say? He couldn’t think straight when Bucky stared at him with animalistic pleasure. He could shoot his load just from that look alone.

Bucky gave a small coy lick up the underside of his cock and Steve whined. The flat of his tongue then, swiped over the sensitive crown, cleaning the pre-come off in its wake. And he wanted to cry. Steve was going to die do to slow torture from Bucky’s tongue. His fingers dug into the mattress as his hips canted up.

“Come on, Buck. You’re killing me…” Steve panted out, his breath coming more rapid.

And then Bucky did something he only saw done in a porn vid. Bucky smiled bright and wild, before swirling his tongue around the head before blowing on it. Steve’s fingers tore into the sheets and Bucky’s lips finally, finally closed around the head and hummed as he slowly took his length into his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks with a suck, and he could feel that tongue playing at one of his veins. Steve’s eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned as his dick hit the back of Bucky’s throat. Bucky made a quiet hitching sound and his dick slide further in, down Bucky’s welcoming throat and Steve was completely undone. His balls drew up tight, his vision losing focus.

Buck…I can’t, I can’t…I can’t stop, please…” Steve was begging.

Bucky pulled back just before he came in his mouth. He convulsed as it went on and on, blinding him as he cried out. And Bucky took it all.

***

The next day Bucky was trying to bake cookies when he came up the stairs. Cookies—Bucky—Baking. Steve tried wrapping his brain around that. Dumping his tackle box  off in his room, he walked into the kitchen.

“What’s the occasion?” Steve inhaled, savoring the smell of raw cookie dough.

“No reason,” Bucky answered slyly.

“Oh, course,” Steve said crossing his arms. “I didn't know you could bake.”

Bucky’s hair was a tousled mess, pulled up in a messy bun, flour dusted his chin and neck. Dressed in grey sweatpants and an obscenely tight red t-shirt, with apron, he was flouring the dough and rolling pin.

“I can’t. Found some cookie recipes in a cookbook you own.” Steve looked over at Bucky, his eyes round with excitement. “It's cool, you can add flour, water and sugar and make something.” All his words coming out in a rush.

Shaking his head, Steve moving toward the counter that had some orange mixing bowls and peered into them.

“Rachael Ray,” Bucky stated it like Bucky would know what he was talking about.

“Huh?” Glancing up, Bucky quirked an eyebrow at Steve.

“Rachael Ray. I started watching her cooking show. Those are her bowls and bakeware.”

“Jesus, Bucky, you’re like a walking commercial.” Steve bit his lower lip was he ran a finger around the rim of one of the bowls.

“Like the color though. It’s kind of cheerful.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” Bucky nodded and started prepping the chilled dough. "It reminds me of sea anemones."

Looking back at the bowls, Steve found one with freshly made white glaze in it. He stuck his right index finger in and scooped out some of the white sticky glaze and popped his finger in his mouth licking it clean. It was sugary and smooth with a hint of lemon and he gave out a little moan, ‘cause—wow--it was that good and he stuck his finger in for more.

“Steve,” Bucky said shaking his head as he turned around. “Don’t eat your surprise.”

“Surprise?” Steve said with his mouth full.

“I’m glad you like it, but I need it for the shortbread cookies.” Bucky gave out a sigh and slight disapproving look. “I wanted to do something for you.”

“Bucky, you don't need too.” Steve licked his finger a little more slowly, savoring the taste, all the while staring directly at Bucky’s face. Were Bucky’s eyes dilating from Steve’s suggestive teasing. Steve chuckled around his finger as he pulled it out.

“Steve, that is not funny.” Bucky stared at Steve. “You know I’ll have to punish you later.”

“Is that a promise?” Steve teased. There was something about Bucky that made him feel like a kid sometimes. They were comfortable together.

Bucky cleared his throat and busied his hands, rolling out the cookie dough. The flour making white little puffs in the air.

“You always do the cooking and I wanted to make a dessert.” Bucky stuttered his words a little. “I already tried some of the frosting.”

“Bucky, you didn't have too,” Steve said.

Bucky’s ears were blushing pink, and Steve could see his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Yeah, but I wanted too.”

“Uh, huh,” Steve’s hands dropped to his sides, narrowing his eyes slightly studying Bucky. He looked positively adorable like this.

“Steve." Bucky finally turned toward him. “Do you want to help?”

“I can be your taste tester” Steve rocked on his feet back and forth, smirking.

“Fine.” Bucky gestured to a chair. “You can watch.”

Steve pulled up a chair and got comfortable. He started to page through the recipe book that was still on the table, trying to figure out what exactly Bucky was making. He noticed that there was a bookmark by cakes, some strawberry pie, and also something about lemon scones. Steve gave out a slight chuckle at that. Bucky was going to become a baker.

The mouthwatering smells of cinnamon and vanilla drifted over him as a quiet sigh escaped his lips.

“Now, what?” Bucky asked.

“Nothing,” Steve shrugged. “It just nice is all. You being ‘Suzy Homemaker’ and all.” It was true Steve did all the cooking, but he liked to cook the fish he caught and also other things, like pastas and salads.

Bucky snorted, shaking his head as he rolled out the dough flat, his forearm muscles flexing as he did so. He had beautifully sculpted arms and large hands. But then his whole body was beautiful, and Steve had firsthand knowledge of what those hands really could do. He just was so sexy here, trying to be domestic, that it got Steve hot and hard.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Steve observed.

“I'm pretty good with my hands.”

“I just bet you are.”

“Yeah, of course," Bucky smiled, small now, his cheeks high with color like he was out of breath.

“Are you warm?”

“Maybe the thermostat is acting up.” Bucky’s lips thinning a bit. “Or a certain someone would stop teasing me. I know what you're up to Rogers, you don't have me fooled.”

“Oookay," Steve said, a little sarcastically, as he watched with half-lidded eyes, Bucky’s hands creating. “I’ll look at it later.” He waited a whole two minutes before he spoke again.

“Oh and Bucky?”

“Yeah,” Bucky gritted out, spinning around, holding the rolling pin like a club.

“Like the apron-- Kiss The Cook.” Steve read the words in a slow, low drawl.

Somehow the rolling pin clattered on the floor. And Steve ended up pinned against the wall having the daylights kissed out of him. Of course, it was all his fault that the cookies did not get done for the next hour. He did start this all. 

***

It was a little like falling off a cliff, falling in love with Bucky. He didn't know where it would go. It was the thrill of it. The excitement. Everything was perfect. It was a whirlwind romance, and it just seems too good to be true, but that did not stop Steve.

They went to many places: to Greenport to ride the antique Merry-Go-Round to grab the brass ring, to Manotoc Lake to go crabbing, ice cream at Huntington Bay, to Orient Point to show off his lighthouse. At Greenport they sat drinking mermaid drinks and eating clams on the half shell. And Bucky was everything. He was his lover but more. The best first mate he ever. Able to know where all the best fish hid. Better than Clint even.

They clicked right away as if they knew each other before. And Steve should have known, should have known, that it couldn't have been that perfect, couldn't have lasted.  Yet something in the back of my mind cropped up ever once in awhile.  But never stopped Steve. He really didn't know who Bucky was. He  didn't know where he came from. Didn't know anything really about him at all: what schools, his family or his friends. Bucky Barnes just seemed to drop out of nowhere, with no past.  It did not seem to bother him, but  in hindsight he should have asked more questions. He just didn't know too ask. He was just too infatuated to care.

Peggy liked him because he was a good worker. Clint did too. Lucky liked to lick his hand, so he was a good judge of character, but there was always something different about Bucky, and he couldn't put his finger on.  It's like he met him in a lifetime before, but he didn't know. Everything seems so familiar but yet not.

Steve was remembering all the wonderful times. All the times they held hands and kissed softly. The first time they kissed was after they boated around Orient Point, past the Straits by Plum Island. It was exhilarating and dangerous, the breakwaters--fast and furious, and they went out and they caught a big striper, and it was perfect. And afterwards, they went back to the lighthouse, and Steve prepared it and somehow one thing or another they kissed, but that wasn't the last one. Another time walking on the beach, holding hands and by the moonlight they leaned into each other and stole another soft kiss. 

And still yet other tender kisses he could remember, but it never went any further and Steve wondered why.

One evening, at the lighthouse, after preparing a light dinner, trying a new recipe for wreckfish that he found: sauteed with garlic butter and a little bit wine, he ask Bucky: why? Or more like Steve confessed that he was bi and interested in a relationship.

“It seems like I've known you my life and I don't know anything about you but this.” Then Steve asked him about how they should go about taking the next step.

Bucky was hesitant. “Steve, I don't want to hurt you.”

“You can't hurt me.”

“I don't know about that. During sex, I get very aggressive. I don't want to scare you, I don't want to hurt you.”

“We can take it easy, slow. You know I really you have become very special to me how I feel you... you feel the same way.”

Steve couldn't say what he thinking, that was falling in love with Bucky. And wanted to know if Bucky was too. They kissed softly then and Steve said let's take that step, let's do it.

Of course, Steve didn't know what he was getting into with Bucky. The way he was so gentle and quiet, then he seemed to turn, but not in a bad way, into an insatiable lover. More aggressive and demanding and Steve found it incredibly sexy how he took the initiative. Taking Steve against the wall aggressively, kissing him stupid and pounding him into the wall.Steve really got turned about that. He loved it, both fighting to get off their clothes fast and then bending Steve over the kitchen table and taking him right there with the empty orange juice glasses and dishes with maple syrup on them.  It was incredible.

Steve never had sex like that in his life. He was missing out on a lot. It was exhilarating. As if Steve could love Bucky anymore, a powerful lover, a sweetheart of a guy, and intelligent and built like a Greek god. But even with all that, Bucky wasn't   superficial and shallow. He had an incredibly generous heart and a gentle soul that touched Steve deeper than anybody he ever knew. Bucky was in his blood: fire and ice. It was so hot, the sweetest perfection.  Sweet, sexy and spicy and he wanted Steve. He couldn't believe his luck because it was so perfect,  so perfect. So Steve never saw it coming, never realized he was living a fantasy these past couple months, that it was all coming to an end. And there was nothing he could have did to stop it. The fairytale was going to take a cruel twist and he wasn't  prepared.

One day after breakfast, Bucky was about to hop in shower for a quick five minutes. Bucky had been under the weather and decided to stay home that day.

“The blackfish and seabass are plenty around Plum Island. You can take the boat out there today,” Bucky said, leaning over and thumbing off some raspberry jam off the corner  Steve’s lips.

“You sure you don't want to come out on the charter today?” Steve playfully nipped at Bucky’s retreating thumb.

“Nah.” Bucky licked the jam off his thumb. “I’m going rest. Maybe it’s this flu thing going around.”

“Sure, I'll catch a big one for you then.” Steve grinned watching Bucky’s mouth. It was positively sinful what he did with it.

“You do that.” Bucky smiled, standing up, and bent over to give Steve a quick kiss. “Love you,” Bucky whispered against his lips.

“Love you, more,” Steve said, kissing him back deeper. 

Bucky laughed, pushing away at Steve’s shoulders. “If you keep that up, you’ll miss that big stripper.”

“No fair,” Steve pouted. 

“The sooner you leave, sooner you can come back.” Bucky winked, before he went into the bathroom for a shower. 

“Hey, Bucky want me to share the shower with you?” 

Bucky did not reply.

“Did you hear me, Buck? Stop, kidding around. You can't just leave me here with a kiss," Steve teased.

“Don't come in.” Bucky’s echoed out from the running shower.

“Aw come on. What's wrong? Hey, you jacking off without me?”

“No, no don't come in.” Bucky said louder over the water.

But Steve opened the door, coming in, the steam rising out of the shower stall. And that is when he saw Bucky transforming. Transforming into something fantastical and mythical.

In the shower, Bucky’s skin slowly took on an iridescent gleam, silver shot through with the color of soft rainbows as it caught in the light. The effect was dazzling, heart stopping like diamonds tossed in the water, glinting bright. Steve’s breath caught in his throat watching Bucky’s legs slowly fuse together as pearly green scales flowed over his legs and into one mass, a tail, a fin. Strong, muscular arms braced against the shower stall walls, holding him upright, the strained muscles rippling.

“How are you doing that?” Steve was in shock, mouth falling open.

“I thought I'd had more time.” Bucky's eyes looked sad, his mouth in a deep frown.

"What do you mean?” 

“I'm sorry, Steve.”

Steve thought he was imagining things. Was he going crazy; he never seen anything like it before. It was right out of a fairy tale. 

“ls this real?” Steve blinked hard as he swallowed. He was trying to stay calm about this, he really was. 

“Yes. Help me, help me to the bed.” 

As Bucky lay on the bed, his tail slowly turned back into legs again. 

“You, want to tell me what's going on?” Steve asked, his voice shaky.  

“It’s time—your memories--I’m the keeper of them,” Bucky said.

“My memories?” Steve asked.

‘It was a long time ago. It is custom. We sealed them, it was to protect us, more than you.” Bucky’s left hand kept nervously opening and closing, his brows knitted. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

Steve listened unable to form words.

“I couldn’t let the ocean claim you…it wasn’t time.” Bucky shook his head, closing his eyes. “No, that’s not true. I…you were my friend. You were kind to me and made me laugh. It was nature to let it happen, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let it happen. I interfered."

Steve stared at Bucky’s arm in a whole new way. The old scars, deep and terrible, yet compelling, because they told a story. They told his story, Steve’s and Bucky’s.

“Is that what happened to your arm?” Steve voice was gravel.

Bucky nodded his head, swallowing thickly.

“Give them back.”

“Are you sure?” Bucky’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yes.” Steve never been surer in his life.

“There is pain. It will pass.”

“Do it.”

“Sit down. “ Bucky instructed, gesturing to the dining room chair.

Bucky took out an amulet which appeared old and beautiful. It was look like it was cut from pearl and jade and fuse together.

“This is where the memories are kept. I have to put it on you, so that they'll come back.” Bucky knelt down in front of Steve and carefully put the amulet around Steve's  neck. Bucky touched the amulet with his hand, and then started to sing a beautiful song. His voice angelic, melody, pure, and Steve felt it deep in his soul. Magical. Each note, sweet and delicate and complete. He lost time. It passed still and fast, and then he wasn't feeling well like he was spinning, then suddenly his head hurt, because all these memories were unlocked, like a rush of blood to his brain, a violent storm. Bucky held his hands squeezing them, whispering the song until the end and then--

Steve remembered.


	3. Lore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But more wonderful than the lore of old men and the lore of books is the secret lore of ocean. -H. P. Lovecraft

*15 years ago*

 

Steve use to count the 137 iron steps to the top of the Montauk lighthouse every summer he visited. The tall white and red lighthouse, an iconic beacon to sea and land. Up at the top, he could see for miles, endless ocean reaching out to the horizon.

  
He decided one day he would live in a lighthouse.

  
It was low tide, the moon full and bright, bathing everything in a soft silvery glow. False Point, where Block Island Sound ends and the Atlantic Ocean beginnings. It is land’s end, a fabled spot where tales start and end. A rock-strewn beach stretching bleak and beautiful in starlight and moon. Steve came here though it wasn’t safe at night, with the low bluff overlooking the roiling surf and craggy rocks.

On the cusp of summer, at the beginning of June and end of Memorial Day weekend, was when Steve made his way down to the beach picking his way through the rocks, dirt and sand to get closer, because the ocean called sweet and clear. A seal barked or gull cried, but it was night and the last seals left for the season. The ones sunning themselves on lazy afternoons on the Stepping Stones before the breakwater. And under the moon he spotted the seal or so he thought, basking in the moonlight, the light gray fur turning silver, there were two on the large flat rock, and Steve inched up to the waterline, sneakers toes kissing the water, his bare calves feeling the cool spray, his arms too with the thin t-shirt he wore.

A breeze chilled him, but the humid night air warmed him as he marvelled at the seals on the rock, and he wanted to get closer still, so he climbed, with nimble feet and searching fingers over the slippery rocks. The danger not entering his twelve-year-old mine just the adventure. He was thin and light with a shock of blonde hair that fell into his blue eyes, so he could do this, being quick, dexterous and sure-footed from the many boat trips with his uncle that he went on. His father a fisherman too, but the sea took him in a freak storm which left him and his mom behind. He did blame the ocean, that was true, but it was the nature, the angry waves and foam that took him, but Steve made a choice not to fear the ocean. His dad was gone a year, and still deep in his mind, a hole in his heart where his dad was so big and strong, and his smile wide and laugh hardy, and he was gone like an echo that rung over and over; he never was coming home. 

Steve made his way to the last rock still a good thirty yards from the large flat outcropping, and he could clearly see the harbor seals. But one was different, not shaped like a seal at all, too long and sleek, a shimmering blue-silver fin, beautiful as a weakfish, scales glittering in the pale light. Was it a tuna or swordfish, but it wasn't in distress--flipping and flopping. And then it was slipping off the rock into the water leaving the other seal, and Steve sat down on his rock sighing at the sight for now it was gone.

And then a head and a pair of shoulders popped out of the water near Steve, making his heart hammer in his chest, his breath sticking in his throat, when he gripped the rock he was sitting on. The person, a boy really, swam closer and stared at him, eyes a stormy blue, wet hair slicked back the color of midnight, skin pearly with fine scales on his shoulders, little gills fluttering slow on the sides of his neck.

“Hello?” Steve’s voice came out high and squeaky. His heart pounded wildly in his chest.

What? Who? Steve couldn't think straight so he thought being polite was a good thing. Steve never seen a person like this. He wondered if he was dreaming, if it was real or like a fairytale or old fish tale told to the young and eager.

“Are you lost?” Steve asked.

The boy just stared and watched with careful eyes, his gills moving slow like breath. He could have been Steve's age maybe a year older as he had a lithe look, fine muscles playing under his skin and he was beautiful. Steve didn't have any other words to describe him. It was like looking at a faceted crystal, cool, glittering and shiny with a beauty that only could be painted to capture it all. The moonlight shined on the boy and he glowed, his features sharp yet curious. He moved closer placing a hand on the rock near Steve, and it was silver scaled with gossamer thin membranes between each finger. 

“Who are you?” Steve questioned. 

The boy gave a light pitched chirp, pursing his lips, brow knitted, looking confused. 

“Do you talk?” Steve was transfixed. He didn't know what to think, but he braved and steeled himself, stretching out his hand toward him, and the boy looked at it puzzled, back and forth, at his own and then Steve's hand--both different yet the same.

“Yeah, we are different but that's cool.” Steve's voice was steady now and he smiled. “In fact, I think it's pretty neat.” 

The boy placed his other hand on the rock and it looked the same. His eyes downcast as he studied his hands and Steve's then he slowly glanced up shy and careful, and gently smiled with a closed mouth, quiet and soft. 

Steve pointed to himself. “Steve. My name is Steve.”

The boy clicked out of sound, a soft, tripping chirp and smiled wider with a hint of teeth.

Steve pointed to himself again. “Steve.” And then pointed to the boy. 

The other give out a bark not unlike a seal which sound like--

“Buck? Bucky? Can I call you Bucky?”

It sounded like that in a weird way and Steve liked it. It was cool.

The boy gave the same sound, pointing to himself.

“Yeah, I can't quite do that, but I can try.” 

So Steve tried to make the sound, but it came out not quite right. And the other boy’s lips curled into a big grin, bright and white, his teeth sharp, but his eyes crinkled amused as he peeled off in laughter, high, bright and musical. It was pretty as wind chimes and happy as jingling Christmas bells and Steve laughed too, because maybe he could make a friend and maybe the other boy wasn't mad that he mangled his name.

The boy pushed up on the rock with both hands the fine muscles under the skin, moving ropes, revealing a pale bare chest and stomach, which, okay, had more muscle than any thirteen-year-old would normally have, but still waif-like yet strong as he flexed, and a hint of a tail surfaced, blue, silver and shiny, like a rainbow, gleaming and stunning. 

“Huh, you were on the rock with the seal?” Well of course he was, duh. He scolded himself. 

The other boy reached out his hand towards Steve, and Steve being Steve, too reckless and brave for his own good, heck he was out in the middle of the night on slippery rocks by the ocean with the crashing waves in the brilliant starlight night so he took it, and it felt cool, wet and not unlike an eel’s with a fine moist membrane feeling over the scales and he felt an electrical pulse, a static hum through his fingers.

“Are you doing that?” And Bucky smile again.

“How?” Steve asked.

And the boy’s mouth moved slowly to formed words. 

“How?” It was a breath of sound as the boy looked up excited and pleased.

“What?” Steve’s eyes grew big and round in surprise. 

The boy mimicked the word back in his own way, the voice whisper soft and pleasant.

“You can talk.” Steve was jittery with excitement, licking his lips. “Oh man, you can talk!”

The boy repeated Steve’s words with no less excitement, squeezing Steve's hand lightly, and his fingers tingled with a gentle pulse, a current through his hand, warm and pleasant,and Steve got it. Bucky was learning to speak through touch.

Steve blinked in surprised, his jaw slacked. “Wow!” 

“Wow,” Bucky repeated and flipped his tail slapping it the water’s surface, making it splash up water and rain down like tiny diamonds in the in the moonlight.

They spent the next hour trading words back and forth. The boy, Bucky, he called him now, pulled himself all the way out of the water and was sitting up on the rock with him like a seal or sea lion, but twisted in a way that his torso was upright keeping balance with his hands on the rock behind him; the rest of him was gorgeous now that he could see the tail fully:a large dolphin shaped scale tail with small fins at the waist for stabilizing. Steve guessed at the tiny fins function; he wasn't sure cause never saw a merfolk before, a mermaid, a merman, yeah, that's what he was--a merman.  It was just like a myth or fable, but real. Bucky was real. He smelled of sea salt, seaweed and fish. His scales gleamed like tiny crystals. His hair sleek and dark, shoulder length with two small braids on the right side that he didn't notice before.

***

Time grew late and Steve needed to get back home before his mom worried and supper was cold. He told Bucky he had to go but, he didn't want to leave because he was afraid he never see Bucky again. The fact of the matter, Steve had few friends and now school was ending soon--fewer. As soon he mentioned needed to go Bucky shook his head, his hair all but dry dark now so it cascaded in light waves on his shoulders, the color lighter now. He slipped off the rock disappearing into the water without a wave goodbye or anything. Steve's heart sunk to his toes as his lips turned down, shoulders sagging.

He searched the water, but all there was was the quiet lapping water of a slowly rising tide. Steve knew he needed to get off these rocks soon. He examined the flat rock too, even the seal was gone. With a heavy sigh, he called out to Bucky.

“Bucky!” Steve cupped his hands to his mouth, shouting Bucky’s name over and over, getting no answer.

Slowly, Steve turn to go picking his way through the rocks again. He was good at it, only slipping once and catching himself before he fell in the water. It wasn't long before he was on the parallel stretch of craggy beach. It was then he heard a whistle, sharp and high, followed up with a low bass tone. The note musical like a conch shell being blown, but there wasn't any shells that big around here. Steve heard it again and the notes should have been lonely and longing, but they ended on a happy uplifting tone.

Turning to the water, Steve peered out over the dark waves that glittered in the moonlight. And that is when he saw something coming closer, no that wasn't something, that was someone. It was Bucky! He knew it was Bucky. The call was closer this time. He could now plainly see Bucky playing in the surf, swimming this way and that--diving and flipping his tail all playful and full of life.  Steve drew closer, taking off his shoe, wading in ankles knees and he could see Bucky waiting to him with a small conch shell in his left hand. Buck swam as close as he could, and Steve waded in deeper to his waist. Bucky swam up to him spinning in tight circles around him, giving happy chirps, forgetting human speech for the moment. He stopped in front of Steve, smiling so bright that he out shined the moon.

Bucky was so graceful in the water, and Steve was so clumsy. But Steve was a strong swimmer, even if he was a short beanpole, however Bucky had him outclassed having the tail, and all it was so unfair. Bucky lifted his upper body out of the water giving powerful sweeps up with his tail to keep upright. He bobbed a little as he floated closer. He touched Steve's shoulder and press the shell to his lips again giving out a quiet note.

“Try,” Bucky said offering the shell to Steve.

“Umm, okay.” He took it and blew the shell that it came out like a sick bleating sheep.

Bucky shook his head and pointed to his ripped stomach and Steve's flat one. _Sure point it out, will you._

“Use.” Bucky took a deep breath and let out it out, his gills fluttering. 

“Ah I get it!” He needed to use his diaphragm. Steve nodded trying again, taking a deep breath this time,  pushing the air out using his abdominal muscles.

_It worked!_ It came out loud and short, but it was better. He gave a cough afterwards because, it did take a lot of lung power. Bucky looked please and smile again.

“Use.” Bucky pointed to the shell and then to himself. “I will hear.”

“You mean I can call you!?” Steve was practically jumping up and down. “Oh yes, I will! Thanks!” Steve was beaming ear to ear.

“I will hear,” Bucky repeated, squeezing Steve's shoulder before letting go.

He gave a trill sound and with a flip of his tail he was under the waves, before popping up yards away, giving one last tail slap before he was gone. Steve clutch the shell to his chest.

“Thank you,” Steve whispered. “Thank you.” Steve trudged out of the water, got his shoes tied then ran off to get his bike, all the while thinking, this was going to be the best summer ever!

***

The summer days past and they were filled with fun and adventure. It never was boring with Bucky. Steve the next evening went to the very spot he last saw Bucky. He pressed the conch shell, which had the end chipped off, to his lips and took a lungful of air and blew on it for all it's worth. It gave out a tuneless moan. It was something Steve needed to practice on but it wasn't going to do it at his uncle's home. Steve and his mom were staying for a few weeks at his uncle's place not too far from the Montauk lighthouse. His uncle was lucky. He got to live out here all the time when Steve had to go back to Brooklyn for school.

Steve vowed when he graduated he’d moved up to Long Island and find a place around here. Maybe be a captain of his own boat and be out in the ocean all day long.

Steve waited sitting down on the beach. The ocean calm today the moon still full. Excitement rushed through him when he spotted movement in the waves. Was it a buoy? No, there were none out here. Steve bit at his lips and gripped the shell. Should he blow it again? Steve brought a book, his baseball trading cards, and a baseball. He wasn't sure if those were the right things to bring over to play with Bucky. But he did anyways. Maybe they could go over the cards? Steve memorized every stacked by heart. He could tell Bucky all about it.

A sharp whistle followed by a short bark took Steve out his daydreaming. He saw Bucky splashing in the waves giving a welcoming flip with his tail. Steve stood up and rushed to a nearby rock that was jutting into the surf. It was low tide again so the rock wasn't submerged as it would have been. The surface wet and a little slippery, but with little effort, Steve got to the end.

“Bucky!” Steve called out waving. The other boy looked a little different today as he swam nearer, it looked like he was wearing a necklace. Bucky pulled up to the rock and hauled himself right a way up, leaving water still dripping and streams off him as he flopped down by Steve spraying him with water.

Steve could make out the necklace was a pretty green stone shaped like a little star; his hair braids had tiny white shells adoring them. Bucky clasped one of these hands.

“Hi,” Bucky said with a wide grin.

Steve felt the warm current again through his hand.

“Hi, yourself.” Steve nudged the shoulder of the other boy.

That day Bucky showed him where the seals pupped. Steve told Bucky about the New York Mets.

***

The seal disappeared. That was the first sign that something was wrong. But did Steve didn't know that that was a sign. It was dusk, sunset and beautiful. The red sun streaming over the water. The sky shot full of color. Gulls flying around. Fish jumping in the waters. Dolphins. Steve could see dolphins. He never seen dolphins is up far up north before. Of course he didn't know that was a sign for something dangerous, something deadly.

He sat down at the beach. He had some homemade cookies that his mom made. There were peanut butter. He hoped that Bucky wasn't allergic to peanut butter. If not, he did bring some cinnamon cookies. Steve readied the conch shell and he blew on it. He was getting better at it; it sounded almost like how Bucky would have did it. He was pretty proud of how it was sounded.

It's been over a month since he first met Bucky. Steve had went to see Bucky almost everyday this summer and it was so much fun. Bucky taught him how to swim better, and Steve showed him all his baseball cards to try to memorize them. He also taught Bucky more English, and he was getting pretty good at it. Bucky, once he learned English, was able to tell him stories. He was an excellent storyteller; he told about the sea witch that ruled the Seven Seas, and he told about his people, how they lived under the sea and hunted and farmed. Bucky also told him that he had pet cuttlefish which is kind of funny.

They decided to check out a place where Bucky found the moon jellyfish blooming.

 ***

Steve turned around and came face-to-face with a big bull shark coming right at him. Steve froze in fear, and he was pushed out of the way.

“No!” Bucky shouted.

Its teeth sunk into Bucky’s left arm. The beast was hell, all black eyes and sharp teeth. Steve futility jabbed at its eyes. He was trying to get it to let Bucky go. Steve punched the shark's nose. Buck twisted to gouge out one of the shark's eyes. The shark shook Bucky in its jaws and Bucky screamed. It was the most terrible sound that Steve ever heard. Bucky was in agony. The water turned red, foaming with blood. Then suddenly the shark pulled Bucky underwater.

Steve was frantic!

“Bucky! Bucky!” Steve dived underneath the water too, punching and kicking the shark and suddenly it let go.

The attack only lasted seconds, but it changed everything. Bucky was going to die if they didn't get help.

Steve started to shriek and cry in panic; the water bubbled and churned with Bucky's blood. Steve didn't know where he found the strength, but he swam to shore with Bucky.

Bucky was barely conscious, looking so pale and white. His eyes kept on trying to close, head bobbing. Blood streaked down his face, matted at his hair and it was getting all over Steve too. But Steve didn't care he had to save Bucky. Bucky was swimming sluggishly and Steve helped him the rest of the way.

They got to the shore and the seagulls were looking for food, like vultures. Steve shooed him away.

“Get out of here!” Steve screamed.

Steve down at Bucky’s pallid face, streaked bright with blood.He brushed the hair out Bucky’s eyes.

“We made it. Bucky. We made it.” Steve was light-headed and world felt like it was going narrow and giddy. He was going hysterical. He laughed.

“We did it Bucky. Bucky you hear me.” Steve was looking at Bucky's definitely pale face. His eyes bluer than he ever seen them. Bucky reached up to Steve, touching his cheek.

“Steve,” Bucky said weakly. “Steve. I'm sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry about? You saved me.” Steve said.

“Saved. I'm happy I saved you.”

“Bucky it's okay, you don't have to talk. Save your energy. I'll get a doctor to fix you up.”

“No doctors,” Bucky grimaced as a wash of pain racked his pain.

Steve looked at Bucky now and not just his face, but his body. He didn't want to look, but he was trying to be brave. Steve almost threw up. Bucky's left arm was bloody and mangled just being held on by tissue and bone. He could see bone. It was white. And he shouldn't be able to see it. That wasn't right. And blood, so much blood. Bucky was bleeding out. Steve took off his wet shirt to try to stop the bleeding.

“Call,” Bucky struggled to talk, tugging at his necklace. “Call.”

Steve found the conch shell.

“Yes,”Bucky said, weakly. “Two short blasts, one long.”

“I can't it's just too hard. I can barely blow it normally.”

“You can do it.”

Steve was shaking as he brought the shell to his lips and gave a pathetic tone.

“No,” Bucky said, “you can do it.”

Steve tried again, with everything. He could do this. He calmed his mind.

And he did it!

Two short blasts, one long!

He did it!

He tried again and he did it again. He could do this.

After time that seem like forever. Bucky closed his eyes, but he still was breathing swallow. His gills fluttering slow.

“Bucky don't die. Please don't die.” Steve was clutching the shell to his chest then dropped it into the sand. He curled up to Bucky to keep him warm. Maybe he didn't know if he needed it, he didn't know if the mermen needed warmth. But he had to do something; he had to try.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw them. The merfolk, maybe half a dozen, popping out of the surf. And then he saw something else. A beautiful naked woman with red hair flowing. But as she rose to surface, her body was of a squid or octopus. The sea witch of Bucky's tall tales was real.

The merpeople rose from the ocean, coming no further than the shallows. The sight was both beautiful and ominous. They wore bits of armour and one was carrying an actual trident. The others had more than one knife strapped to their bodies. Bodies that looked all beautiful, muscular and deadly. Warriors from the deep. Bucky told him of such people. The ones that defended, the kingdom as he said. And they had to be the royal guard of the sea witch, the one that ruled.

The sea witch herself bore no weapons as if she didn't need them, her own body a weapon onto itself.

Why she came herself was strange. Was Bucky an important person, and important being to his world? He didn't know. Bucky always seemed like just a normal boy, like him. Just lonely and wanted to play. He didn't know how he was related to the sea witch. Or maybe it just was that important if one of their people were hurt, that they're very Queen would come to rescue him.

“Help him,” Steve cried out.

“You human, bring him to the water,” the sea witch, Natalia. Her voice heavily accented, the diction emphasizing different vowels than English speech. He couldn't place what country the accents they could be. Or maybe it was a country he’s never heard of before.

“He's too hurt. I might hurt him more by moving him.” Steve voice cracked with an hidden sob.

“Can't you see he's drowning, fool. Bring him to the water,” she commanded. Her voice a steel blade wrapped in silk.

Steve was alarmed. He felt Bucky’s forehead, searching at his face for distress. Deep lines of pain furrowed his brow. Drowning? He can only be out of the water for short time, echoed in his head.

“Of course like a fish…” Steve had been playing with Bucky for over a month and he forgot. Bucky... He'd seemed so human, never realizing he might not be able to breathe air for long or had to keep his gills and scales wet.

“Hurry,” she spoke again. The voice closer.

Steve looked up; the sea witch clear spoke English, without touching him. It was dawning on him. She was close now, her whole body out of the water. She only was as close as the water edge. Her powerful tentacles holding her up and they moved like big dark sinuous snakes under her body, both undulating and hypnotic.

“How?”

“Never mind that. You waste time.” She came as close as she dared, her tentacles slowly moving back and forth, her body being pushed along by them. A tentacle almost within reach.

 

 


	4. Echos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “It is said by the Eldar that in water there lives yet the echo of the Music of the Ainur more than in any substance that is in this Earth; and many of the Children of Ilúvatar hearken still unsated to the voices of the Sea, and yet know not for what they listen.”  
> ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion

“They erased your memories too,” Steve sat there stunned, this was unbelievable. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. This was so not reality--mystical mermaids? Myth? Fantasy? He didn't understand it. Though he did see Bucky transform in the shower. He couldn't unsee that, that really happened. There was definitely something different about Bucky, something very different, but it didn't make him love him less.

“Yes, I submitted after they promised not to harm you. After three thousand cycles of the sun, my memories were restored.”

Steve did some fast math in his head. “You were 18 years old then.”

“Yes, about 8 years past--years not knowing about you. But you--longer. Time we cannot undo.”

“But we can move forward from this." Steve said, his voice faltering. He so wanted things to work, now that he knew the truth. "This moment on, the future is wide open like the sea.”

“Yes.” Bucky finally smiled as if he was holding it back. His features relaxed as he reached out his hand to cover Steve’s. “It was always you. You are mine, that day; you were mine.”

“Why?”

“I spilled blood for you so you belong to me.”

“Do you want me, for me?” Steve whispered, searching for hope in Bucky’s eyes.

“Of course, I do. You are everything.”

“I want you too, with everything I have.”

“It is time.”

“Time?”

“You are ready to join me. You are mine. Come with me.”

“Where?”

“To the deep, the kingdom, my people.”

“Why?”

“I cannot force you.” Bucky’s face fell as the light behind his eyes dampen. “I can only ask.”

Then the stoicness that Bucky was trying to keep up, crumbled; he came closer to Steve and bow his head, shaking, kneeling down by Steve.

“I'm sorry, so sorry,” Bucky said, hanging his head briefly, before looking up into Steve’s eyes. So much emotion was swirling in those silver blue eyes. The connection, the eye contact, sunk deep into Steve as if the emotional storm between them, only them, was captured under glass to rage and swirl with no escape, but a sigh or scream of anguish. Bucky touched Steve’s cheek with with pads of his fingers.

“I knew you. I. knew. you. Why?” It came as a choked sob, Steve’s throat so tight. He closed his eyes turning into the touch, his body wanted comfort, yet he wanted to be angry. Angry at all the time lost, everything. But he couldn't hate this man, Bucky--never. It was fate he spat on, the cruel mistress she was, cruel like the sea that took his father. Cruel that it took Bucky from him. Cruel that now they were so far apart though they touched each other, sat as close as the water on sand. But it was slipping away like sand. Steve needed to grab hold. He moved his hand to cover Bucky’s, the one that caressed his face.

“It was forbidden. I was young and curious. I wanted to know about the land people the one with souls.” Bucky’s voice was always a soothing balm that glided over the wounds of his heart.

“I don't understand,” Steve said, opening his eyes again to gaze at Bucky.

Bucky’s left hand came up to touched Steve’s chest and the familiar, glowing pulse singed through Steve.

“What is that? It's so familiar,” Steve asked.

“It's how we see and know and feel. I touched you, your soul. It resonates like a song. Our people are soulless. Your soul is beautiful, Steve, pure and gold. I feel it in my bones. It is in my heart. It drew me to you, your energy. The current you give off is like a magnet.”

“Bucky…” Steve touch Bucky's cheek, his hand going down, to his neck to his chest. It has always been Bucky, never anyone else. He never truly connected with anyone so soul deep as this man. There was no way this man had no soul; he was wrong. It filled him up. It nurtured him to feel so much. Bucky was like a glittering star, bright and clear. One that he knew he loved. Yes, loved. There was no other word for it. He loved Bucky to his very bones and soul.

“We are made from myth and magic from another time, Steve.”

Steve felt Bucky’s heart beating strong and quick under his palm.

“I wanted to know," Bucky said. "I wanted what I never could have. Oh the gods, I still want it.” Bucky’s eyes shimmered, his hand turning over Steve’s, lips softly kissing his palm.

“What is that Buck?” But Steve knew, he knew before the answer came. 

“A soul, but one of my own. My very own, but it’s nearly  impossible, but I had to try and when I have it our souls can touch, be one, Steve. You are my heart.”

Steve shook his head. “It feels like that already, baby.” It did, there never was a waking moment that he didn’t think about Bucky. Every heartbeat, every breath, it was Bucky always now and forever. 

“I love you,” Steve simply said, leaning in so that their lips meet in the tenderest of kisses. Steve wished a kiss would make it better, didn’t all fairy tales end with a kiss, that changed everything and lead to the happy ending? He so wanted that to be true; he found the one, his other soul, his heart was complete with Bucky.

“I do too, my heart beats for you. I wish upon the stars and the grains a sand, that would be enough. I hoped. Be it isn’t enough to let me stay. The spell doesn't work. It was only one part.” Bucky’s breath whispered over Steve’s lips.

And Steve’s heart shattered. A wet sob escaped his lips, as he kissed Bucky harder. Gasps and tiny nips and a keening cry that was coming from Bucky, it was his whimper. And it shot through Steve, shaking him to his core, because this was everything. Bucky was everything. That needy cry, the way Bucky simply came apart with a kiss and touch. Steve so depersely wanted to hold on, because the alternative was too bleak, so wrong.

“Why?” Steve finally choked out, as their bruised lips parted, and Steve ran a thumb over Bucky’s kiss swollen bottom lip.

“I need you to come with me. It was part of the bargain, to the ocean, to meet my people.”

Steve wasn't sure how that was going to work, but for Bucky he would do just about anything.

“I’ll do it.” Steve tenderly kissed each of Bucky’s eyelids, before gathering him a tight hug, Bucky’s arms wrapping around just as tight. “I love you, God, I love you so much,” Steve said, solemnly.

Bucky rested his head on his shoulder, giving a small hum, but Steve could feel wet, hot tears soaking into his shirt.

***

“But do you love him enough to leave everything behind and become one of us?” Natalia the Sea Witch questioned. She didn't look any different from Steve's unlocked memories.

Steve hesitated,  the words catching in his throat. “Yes—but…”

“There is no ‘but’. Do you or don’t you?” Natalia's voice pointed like a dagger.

“Yes, I do.” Steve said firmly, glancing at Bucky.

“Steve…” Bucky looked torn.

“I want to say, that love is not all or nothing. Love is compassion and compromise. Love is living in the moment with the most important person in your life. Love should not mean that either one of us give up our identity to be without one another. We should cherish our differences and grow to appreciate. Love is not a sacrifice, but a gentle giving of one's soul to the other. It is a sunset on the shoreline, or a flower blooming in the dead of winter or the fish swimming close to the surface to feel the sun’s warmth. Love is all this. But love is not what you purpose, what you are asking. But if that is what it takes to be with him, I’ll do it. I’ll do it.”

“I’m not worth it.” Bucky was frowning, pulling into himself.

“Yes, you are, a thousand times—yes.” Steve closed the gap between them, both his hands came up to frame Bucky’s head. “I love you. It’s simple and complex as that.”

Bucky trembled at the tender touch, Steve’s thumb tracking a tear that roll down Bucky’s cheek--wiping it away. Bucky looked so defeated, it was crushing Steve’s heart. His brave, sexy lover that whimpered at soft touches, yet was savage and powerful when he took control, was everything to Steve. It was just that simple. Bucky was his breath, his blood.

And Steve felt it back as Bucky leaned in and placed the chaste of kisses on Steve’s lips. A shy tongue glided at the seam of his lips, to part so that the kiss grew more to a tender giving of love and life. Bucky tasted like the ocean, for he was the ocean, calm yet furious. Bold and quiet. And Steve loved every facet of this man, no this, being. Because Bucky wasn't human, but it never entered it the equation. It was a non factor. He was Bucky. That was all that mattered. But it mattered to the others pulling them apart. It mattered to Natalia which loomed in the background of their doomed kiss.

They kissed.

“Enough!” Natalia commanded. “Leave.” She glared at Steve.

“But?” Steve is confused.

“Vasha, you come, he leaves.”

Bucky slowly transformed into a merman. It was a sight, that was both beautiful and sad. Silver scales, gems upon the water. He was sleek, powerful, yet mournful, like faded memories.

Natalia turned to go. “It is time, Vasha."

With a long, lingering, sorrowful look over his shoulder, Bucky dove under the waves.


	5. Lost and Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For whatever we lose (like a you or a me) it’s always ourselves we find in the sea. -e.e. cummings

Coping is never easy, loss of your soul, takes time to heal.

Steve's days stretched out like the ocean, vast and empty. Bucky was gone and there was a huge void, a chasm. One Steve could not fill. He couldn't feel Bucky, and it as if all the colors of the world dulled. The daily tasks, boring. It wasn't like he didn't do them before, alone, but it was different now. Making coffee, washing the dishes, doing laundry, it was different without Bucky there. They were a team. And it wasn't that Bucky was noisy or loud. No, it was more like Bucky was a quiet presence, a pressure in air currents, small soft breaths, and scraping of pages turning in a well-worn book. It was missing. And Steve was unmoored.

Steve took to the boat, aimlessly sailing for hours each day with no real destination. He’d canceled all further charters until further notice. December was a quiet time for fishing. But he still had some charter bookings up until New Year's. The New Year’s run would be popular. Not so much fishing, but to sail around the harbor, drink champagne and watch the fireworks ring in the New Year. A year Steve was looking forward to with Bucky. But that wasn't going to happen. Sam was the first to notice Steve's mood change.

“Go talk to somebody, please,” Sam said. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” Steve said, quirking an eyebrow. He scrubbed his hand over his beard. Maybe it was a bit straggly.

Sam had come down to his boat, because he wasn't answering his texts or his voice mail. Steve just wasn’t up for company since Bucky left.

“What are friends for.” Sam said.

Steve snorted. “Yeah.”

And Sam was a good friend.

“I really should be mad at him.” Sam crossed arms, giving a stern look.

“Don’t be, it wasn't his fault.”

“How is that? You look like a truck ran over you and you smell.” Sam wrinkled his nose.

“Thanks. So maybe I skipped a shower or two.” Steve picked at his shirt, one he wore yesterday too.

“Does he look as bad as you? Because he should.”

“I wouldn't know. I haven't seen him in a week,” Steve sighed.

“He left, for good?” Now Sam looked more concerned, his voice lowering, studying him more closely.

“It is complicated.” Steve shook his head. How was he going explain it? Bucky was a merman that made a deal with the sea witch to have legs for three months to win Steve’s heart? It sounded crazy even to him. Sam would definitely think Steve would need a vacation and was reading too much fantasy.

But Bucky did win his heart, but there was a catch. One that Bucky didn't even foresee. The sea witch lied, or maybe Bucky didn't get all the details. Steve had to follow him back to the sea to live there forever. Bucky couldn't do that to him, so he left without getting the soul he desired, because the price was too high. But Steve would have did it, he didn't know how it would work, but he would have found away. But it was so sudden and quick. And Steve reacted, he hesitated. And that was all Bucky needed to know that it wasn't right to force this on Steve just to get something he wanted--a soul. It wasn't fair to Steve. And the sea witch witnessed this and forced the issue. Dammit! He kept playing back in his mind what he would have done differently. But it was too late. He lost Bucky.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Sam nodded to his car. Peggy’s got an ‘all you can eat’ blue crab special.”

Steve looked around the boat, before shrugging. “Yeah, sure. I’ll clean up first.”

“Try to sound a little more enthusiastic. I am buying.” Sam widen both eyes, giving Steve a disapproving look.

“Don’t have to do that, Sam.”

“You did not just turn down free food? I didn't hear you correct.” Sam cupped a hand to his ear leaning toward Steve.

“Nope,” Steve rubbed the back of his neck, before pasting on a fake smile. Sam was a good friend. One that he maybe didn't deserve, but he was going try to gain some control of his life.  
  
So we went to the doctor and he prescribed him some anti-depressants and anxiety meds. Steve hadn't needed those for a long time. After he got back from Afghanistan, he was a mess, but slowly, he found his way and built a life, following a dream, a goal, to be a charter boat captain. Steve always love the ocean, it was in his blood, his family bore fishermen for generations. So he followed the call, the pull. One he had since he was a small boy dreaming about it, so he threw himself into the task and soon got his first boat and established himself among all other busy charters out of Montauk. He loved it, completely thriving on sharing his knowledge he knew and finding people that he could trust like Clint and Sam. Peggy too. They reconnected after he found her restaurant here.

***

Coping was never easy, losing your heart and soul was a goddamn nightmare.  
  
The five stages of grief in theory could be applicable to Steve. He was trying to learn to deal with a loss. The denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance, were all the stages. But nothing was linear. There was no set order or time frame. No wrong or right way to deal with this. But not everyone’s on the same road, making the same stops. There were no fucking road signs. It all was a goddamn roll of the dice.

Right now, as Steve faced the facts, he was in the depression stage. He stood outside watching a storm roll in from the stoop of the lighthouse. Smoke curled from the cigarette he held, ash flaking off the tip. He took up smoking again after Bucky left. A bad habit, but it was a soothing crutch. His depression wasn’t like jumping off a bridge. No, it’s a little more dubious than that. It was a slow crawling malaise, a fog that cloaked everything. It was, why the hell get up in the morning. Or a cold pizza made a good late breakfast. He took another drag, letting the smoke settle in deep, before blowing out a stream of smoke. It started to rain.

  
So he had therapy set up for next month. After everything, he knew he needed it. And he had his medication, three bottles each with different colored pills, each to be taken with a meal every day like clockwork, without fail. It was a routine--red, white and green. One anti-depression, one tranquilizer to keep him calm, and the other for anxiety.

He got mixed up sometimes trying to remember what really happened that summer all those years ago as opposed to what he thought he knew. In the present, he wanted to keep it. The past was now muddled. Remembering Bucky and losing him. That was real. That was now, and wasn't some fantasy he wished it was.

Steve shook his head. He needed a good shot of caffeine, he was in a strange mood. This morning the rain was making him feel like his skin was static with the storm.The droning rain like moths hitting a screen door.

He scooped the coffee into the coffee maker, added water, put the filter in and hit brew. He crossed his arms waiting for the coffee to take its goddamn time to drip into the carafe. The coffee was a tease as it drifted out the heavenly scent of the dark roasted brew.

Steve eyed the package sitting on the kitchen table. One found hidden in the bedroom and was sitting there begging to be opened on the lovely natural oak wood table that Bucky used to sit at reading.

Steve wondered why he owned four chairs when only the two of them lived here. They didn’t have company often. The lighthouse living area was tiny. It didn't need all those extra chairs. He sighed. A bowl of hard candy, which held the colors of a rainbow sat on a counter. Bucky favorites were sour apple and root beer. Steve was trying not to look at the innocent plain looking manila envelope.

He decided to open it--after pouring coffee and lighting a cigarette, a habit he picked up when he was in the service. He'd quit, but now he needed something to steady his nerves and the nicotine would do that because it couldn't be that bad if it was Bucky’s.  Steve took special care in opening up the envelope, shaking out the contents on the table.

They were mementos of the past few months. A sea shell they picked up at Kirk Park beach. A flyer for Peggy’s restaurant. The bright orange lure for weakfish, the ones that Clint sold in his bait shop. A recipe for cinnamon molasses cookies. A brass ring from the Greenport merry-go-round that Bucky somehow pocketed and didn't give back. Bucky's phone, which was a prepaid one, but nice. His favorite game was candy crush. The spare key to the lighthouse. And Steve’s eyes started to water and he brushed at them sniffing. His fingers trembled as he touched  the key. There were so many memories. His emotions were locked away, but like this key it opened up a flood. Steve could feel, and it hurt his heart. It squeeze in his chest, the pain unbearable.

And the second last item that slipped out was a driver's license. Steve fingered it. James B. Barnes.  He studied the photo. It was faded due to water damage. He was a young man, dark hair, approximately Bucky's age. He wondered what happened to this James Barnes. Was he even living anymore? He’d hope so. The address was a place in Shelbyville, Indiana.

The very last was a drawing. Steve didn’t know Bucky could draw. Then he didn't know a lot of things.

It was of Steve how he would have appeared if younger, maybe 12 years old. On the beach at Montauk. It was a profile shot, and the features were soft and dreamy, like his mind was a million miles away. It was hard wrapping his mind around that Bucky did this. Maybe it was nighttime when the drawing was made. That charcoal used gave in a shadowy, blended mood. This was him as Bucky saw him. He remembered that summer so long ago. The memory just out of reach, but there. This drawing represented something important, an event in his life and also Bucky’s. They were linked, bound.

  
Steve took a sip of his cooling coffee and frowned. He got up to freshen his cup. He peered out the kitchen window, out to see the ocean. The rain had stopped, and everything looked shiny and new, glittering with a sheen of dewy moisture. It made everything seem bluer. He wanted to feel something and  now be did, the sadness, breaking into the numbness. His medication kept his moods even—but still nothing could not make him feel the loss and sorrow. But still the miles of sea, the open expansion, gave him a certain peace, because he knew Bucky was out there somewhere.

***

_‘I'll be there to save the day, Superman got nothing on me..’_

He prepped dinner whistling and humming along to the music on his ipod.

Steve like to cook. He was into simple and traditional recipes. There was something satisfying about using whole foods when cooking. Tonight it was grilled lemon pepper wreckfish and steamed green beans with red peppers. Simple and filling. He’d guess he was old school about it, which didn’t come to any surprise to him. His mom was to blame for that. Hearty filling meals with nothing too fancy was how he cooked. 

Steve gave Bucky the thick envelope after he served the blueberry pie. He didn’t want Bucky to get distracted and not have a slice. It had the right sweet tangy favor and the whip cream topped it perfectly.

“Just to get it out of the way, yes, I opened it,” Steve said as he was clearing the dishes off the table.

Bucky looked at the packet, puzzled. “So what’s in it?”

“You don’t know?” Steve’s eyes widened.

“No, should I? I wasn’t expecting anything.”

“Check the return address, it might have gotten ripped,” Steve suggested.

Bucky folded down the tear. “There is no address.”

“Maybe Peggy or Clint found out about it, and helped with the address.” Steve wasn’t sure.

When Bucky finally opened the packet, spilling the contents all over the table, Steve was _not_ expecting the reaction that happen. Bucky choked back a sob, covering his mouth. His eyes both sad and surprised.  His touch each item like they were precious gems, picking them up with great care.

“Bucky?” Steve said in quiet concern, brow wrinkling. He wanted to reach out to comfort Bucky. But he didn’t move; he felt strange, like an intruder in Bucky’s distress.

“I...” Bucky’s voice hitched.” I’m so sorry you saw these.” Bucky looked positivity miserable.

“Why?” said Steve. He was washing the dessert plates out and drying them with a terry cloth.

Bucky shook his head. “I forgetting how much you don’t know.”

“Maybe. Things come back slowly.” He gave Bucky’s shoulder a squeeze.

Bucky shivered and nodded, giving a watery smile. Not elaborating, further, Bucky gathered up the items and retired early for the evening. Bucky never did that, so Steve knew he was still upset. Maybe tomorrow they could talk more about it.

That night Steve dreamed, but it was not a dream, it was a memory. The memory of the shark attack. It was terrifying and troubling and sent his heart racing. But every once in awhile the dream is not of something terrible, but a happy one. Those were the dreams he woke up from, gasping in his pillow, hot tears clouding his vision. Those dreams let him know he still felt and had a shattered heart. He'd woke up to realize Bucky wasn't there. They didn't have dinner last night or talked about the contents of the envelope. It all was a dream.

***

Time passed at a slow pace as Steve worked on just trying to keep himself together. It was working more or less. His meds were doing there job, and his friends dragged him out of the lighthouse time to time. The nightmares and dreams were less. So he wasn't expecting anything unusual when he fell asleep reading late in the night.

Steve woke with a start, a noise, a dream, a whisper. His bed felt empty, his heart hollow. The bang on a sill, Steve reached over to flick the light on near the bed. The book he was reading, Moby Dick, there next to it on the nightstand was a knife and his blood grew cold. It wasn't an ordinary knife as it was in his tackle box or switch blade for cutting rope or filleting fish or a butcher knife in the kitchen for chopping vegetables but a dagger, long, tapered, fine ruins etched on the blade, made of jade and he knew.

“Bucky,” Steve whispered. But Steve never was more alone and he didn't understand. Bucky left this, but why? Steve reached out to grasp it. The knife was light and perfectly balanced it wasn't a tool, it was a weapon made for one purpose only--to kill.

***

Then one day, after close to a month, Steve saw Bucky perched on a rock near the lighthouse. Steve's heart pounded hard in his chest; he must be imagining things. Slowly Steve approached, and Bucky turned to watch him, his eyes wide and blue.

Bucky was different. His long hair shorn short. But it was him, it really was him.

“I made another deal. My hair, so I could stay with you as a man," Bucky said.

“Will it grow back?” Steve somehow found his voice. It came out shaky, his throat tight.

Bucky shook his head. “No...I don’t think so. Magic is weird like that. Merfolk hair is different than humans.”

“But you are a human now? Is it permanent?” Steve came close enough to be within touching distance.

“Until the sun sets on the next century.” Bucky looked up at Steve, his face open with emotion, eyes soft.

“That’s pretty long.” Steve sat down near Bucky.

“Better than three months.” Bucky studied him intently.

“Yeah.”

“Merry Christmas?” Bucky gave an awkward smile, lowering his gaze briefly.

“Your people celebrate it too?”

No—But the whole world is the winter solace, and that is celebrated everywhere. A season of miracles and I have you.” 

“Bucky, I’m not worth all this.” Steve's voice cracked with emotion.

“Yes, you are.” Bucky leaned in and pressed his lips to Steve’s, pulling back, his breath ghosting on his lips. “Because you say that you are. Be mine. Be my miracle.”

“Yes, oh yes.” And closed the hair’s breathe distance to claim Bucky’s lips in a soul-bearing kiss.

“Love me”, Bucky whispered against Steve’s lips.

“I do, I do,” Steve answered with all his soul. “I feel a little like I’m living ‘The Gift of the Magi’. Before you left. I bought you your own shampoo and hair brush, because you kept borrowing mine.”

“Oh, Steve.” Bucky’s eyes filled with unshed tears. “It’s okay.”

“You’re here. You’re really here.”

“Yes.”

“Not a trick?”

“No, I came back for you and everything.”

“Everything?”

“I never belonged, I was an outcast, forever seeking and yearning for what cannot be—not knowing what it was. Then you and the people here so warm and accepting. I felt like I came home and I was happy.”

“I looked for you. Set sail and tried to find you, but I never could. And the lighthouse was so empty.”

“The kingdom is here.” Bucky places his hand over Steve’s heart. “If you believe you find it. I found my soul in you. It's true it's always been you. I never knew that it could feel like this. I have my soul, and yet I still was incomplete unless I was with you.”

Tears were spilling now, each wiping them from faces with gentle fingertips, foreheads touching.

“I’d do anything for you.”

“Same.”

“God, I missed you.” Steve’s fingers reached up to brush Bucky's hair behind his ear, but then he realized he couldn't because, it was so short and his fingers stilled by his ear, caressing it.

Does it matter, my hair?”

“No, Buck. God no.” Steve ran his hand through Bucky’s newly shorn hair. It bristled and stuck up in at an angle as his hands passed over it and smoothed it back down. Bucky shivered under the touch and clutched at Steve’s shirt, biting at his lower lip.  The texture was the silky feel, but shorter, much shorter.

“It doesn’t matter.” Steve said as he kissed the top of Bucky’s head. A soft gasp huffed out of Bucky’s lips, curling into the touch, closer to Steve.”

“Steve, you better not be lying.” Bucky looked up there his lashes with a small smirk. God, how Steve missed those sly smiles and earnest looks that were anything but innocent.

“As long as I have you.”

And Bucky released a shuddering sigh like he was holding in the world and curled into Steve and shook. The smile didn’t slip, but the tears dampen his shirt. “Steve.” Bucky’s voice was a choked sob.

Steve circled his arms around him and the tense ball that was Bucky unfurled and each let the tears fall not caring to stop them.

“Steve you thawed the heart of the sea witch.”

“What?”

“You did. She is bitter, terrifying, but wise and you pierced her heart with your words. I’d feared she had none, but it was there to hear your voice.”

“I think she was looking out for you, your people. I can understand that, not like it, but understand.”

“The witch has her own agenda, but protective of the kingdom.”

“Then I am grateful to her, maybe she does care in her own way. She helped you find your true self.”


	6. Epilogue

“What is taking you so long, Bucky? Get over here.” Steve was stretched out on a bed reading. They were home at the lighthouse where it all began. The bed they first had sex, now, he knew it was, love, plus with freshly laundered sheets and a feather pillows. Steve smiled as if he was in a bit of heaven. He gave Bucky a lavish smirk, as he turned a page of the book. Steve was now all comfortable and happy and it was play-time.

“Just wanted to put the dagger away in a safe place.” Bucky was tucking it into the drawer of the desk. He was looking at it again, the dagger that he left back a few weeks ago; the one that he did not use on Steve. Bucky had explained that the sea witch gave it to him to use as a way to gain a soul. But he couldn't do it. And Steve was forever grateful for that, not because he didn't want to die. It was that he didn't want Bucky to have that terrible burden if he did it. Now that it was tucked safely way, it would be just a reminder of all that they have now and all they could have lost, and it be forever grateful and not take anything for granted with their happiness, their lives, everything.

Steve tossed the book he was reading on the night stand with a soft ‘tunk’.

“Don’t make me stripped you,” Steve said as he flopped his back on the bed with a sigh. The ocean's waves outside were making their rhythmic presents known, crashing on the rocks, but here inside they were cocooned in their own private paradise. Bucky would always be the very ocean to him, one he wanted to get lost in.

“Promises. Promises,” Bucky said.

“Oh, I got an idea. Because I have a head start, me being naked and all” Steve waved a hand across his body. It was muscled and toned with all the hard work, fishing and sailing. His cock, stirring with interest.” I want you to put on a show for just for me. A private show,” Steve laughed as put his hands behind his head.

“Okay, strip for me,” Steve said, winking.

Bucky unbutton his shirt at a languid pace, and let it fall on a chair. Bucky smiled, staring at Steve, and the layered t-shirt came off too, pulled over his head. Steve almost swallowed his tongue. Because-- _Christ, Amightly!_ All the expanse of beautiful skin. He practically was glowing in subdued lighting from the reading lamp. That chest alone could launch one thousand ships. _Sorry, Helen of Troy, you lose._ He was so fucking gorgeous, it burned Steve’s eyes. Those firm pecs and huge shoulders, he was perfect. The scar on his shoulder just made him love Bucky more. He saved him. Bucky undid his pants, shimming out of them, and wiggled his ass. It was so good to see Bucky being all playful and teasing.

Steve sat up straighter to watch the show. “Come here.” Steve held out his hand to pull him into the bed. Bucky lay down on the bed with Steve.

”You’re so beautiful, Steve.” Bucky smiled softly as he leaned in and gently nibbled at Steve’s ear. It hurt a little, but Bucky licked away the pain. He ran a broad hand across Steve’s chest, down to his abdomen. Steve’s muscles quivered at the tender touches.

“Likewise.” And Steve reached out his hand to Bucky’s cock, giving one long stroke, which had Bucky shivering, a quiet whimper escaping his lips.

“You like that?” Steve arched an eyebrow.

“You, know I do.” Bucky grinned, giving Steve a playful slap on the ass.

Steve moved closer, rutted into Bucky's hard stomach muscles, before taking both their cocks in his hand and started working on them. They both were breathing heavy, both cocks started leaking precome.  

They kissed deep and dirty, Bucky catching Steve’s lower lip in little nip, and licked away a drop of blood. His teeth still sharp, but not like before.

“Get the lube, baby. I want you to fuck me, good,” Steve said, grinning with anticipation.

Steve released both cocks he was stroking and flopped back on the mattress, all in a big sprawl. He was beginning to sweat, getting very aroused. He palmed his own cock, rubbed the head with it.

Bucky uncapped the tube, getting it all and nice and wet on his fingers.

Steve slid, back positioning himself for Bucky. The finger traced around his tight hole, teasing.

“Oh…“ Steve bit back a moan. He didn’t want to get too loud. It was an old habit. He knew that they were pretty much alone, surrounded by water.

Bucky stretched him open slowly, inserting one finger working it in. And oh god, it felt so right. Steve’s breath came out in puffs.

“More, Bucky.” He does just that, inserting two and Steve started panting, because it was incredible.

“Oh God, you don’t know beautiful and sexy you look right now." Bucky’s eyes were dark and blown wide. He hungrily raked them over Steve.

“Yeah, I do you. You just told me.” Steve smirked up at Bucky. It was slow, too slow and he wanted Bucky to hurry.

“Bucky, any time now, you are killing me.” But he just kept the two fingers in, going nice and slow, but deeper, much deeper. Bucky brushed against his prostate, and he cried out. “Oh shit, oh shit, Bucky.” and he’s pushing back on the fingers, wanting. Bucky caressed Steve’s stomach with his other hand, while leaving kisses on his chest, his hips, and giving a playful nip—hard enough to leave a bruise.

Finally, finally Bucky inserted a third finger and Steve was done. Steve’s cock was bouncing on his stomach and he brought up his hand to start pumping it slow, to take the edge off. And then Bucky’s hand was over his and they were both wrung him out—precome dribbling, down the side of his dick. “

“Bucky,” Steve huffed. “Oh God!”  Three fingers go in expertly opening him up wider, teasing his prostate. They are both pumping Steve’s cock, and he felt the telltale bottoming out in his stomach. He was whimpering, near tears, his head thrashing on the pillow.

“Come, baby,” Bucky simply said, in a soft command.

_Oh God_ , he did, it started as a jerky spasm, and ended in a cry, as he spurted all over both of them--splashing both their stomachs.

“Oh fuck…Bucky.” Because he was wrecked, shaking, sweating. And Bucky held him through it. Still pumping his fingers in his ass. Steve was on the road to being over stimulated.

“Bucky, I can’t...” He shook his head, but his body bared down on the fingers more.

“I have you. Going to take the best care of you.” Bucky whispered in his ear. And that was stimulating enough for Steve, just his voice was making him quiver. “We have all night.”

Steve let out a long moan, rolling his eyes back, because that meant, Bucky was going to fuck him all night long, until he passed out from it. He couldn’t wait.

“I'm going make you feel so good. Going take you apart.” Bucky’s lower voice was sexy as hell, and melted into him.

“Bucky…” Steve whimpered, licking his lips. Bucky took his fingers out, and Steve felt the lost like his heart left his body.  

Bucky grabbed both Steve's calves and hauled him up, catching under his knees, draping them over those muscled forearms of his, the biceps bulging as he was lifting up the lower half of Steve as easy as pie. Steve sometimes forgot how strong Bucky was. He was human now, but it didn't take away the years of swimming in the ocean, building up strength, muscle, and sheer power.

“I always wanted to do this,” Bucky said, smiling down at him. He looked like a shining mythological god that was going to fuck his brains out.

“Well, now you can,” Steve panted out as Bucky rolled on a condom. Steve being fucked into the mattress was everything he wanted. Bucky’s stamina was off the charts.

The tip of Bucky’s cock brushed his rim and Steve trembled.

“Do it...” Steve panted. Bucky’s crown started a slow slide in, bit by bit.

Steve’s chest was heaving as it entered, because goddamn, every time, he forgot out big Bucky was. He was fucking huge! Steve just doesn’t know if it will fit. The pressure was taking his breath away.

“Easy,” Bucky smiled, serene and calm, while Steve was turning into a whimpering mess.

“Oh god, do it please...”

“Bucky’s hips snap forward, and he pushed all the way in, Steve  was completely filled and he shouts. He can’t be quiet even if he tried. He was so full he could burst.

Bucky just breathed steady, not moving forward, but manhandling him, to get a better position. He was working the angle, because he knew, exactly where his prostate was, and he was going bang it until Steve done.

“Ready?” Bucky asked.

“Yes, God, yes. “ Steve gave a shaky laugh, all bravado, before he couldn’t talk anymore. He whimpered, shaking as Bucky started to move--in and out. Steve was so full, he could come again, but that wasn’t possible. Steve glanced down at his dick doing just that, getting hard again. The stimulation was almost too much. Pleasure and pain.

“Fast…Bucky. I can take it." Steve’s voice broken and hoarse.

Bucky went faster, filling him with that big cock of his, taking him completely apart, and hitting his prostate every damn time. And there was no more thought in Steve’s head, but the harsh slapping of skin on skin as Bucky thrusted in.

Steve was on that edge again, he was going fall off the ledge. He wanted to come again. But he didn’t know if he could. He reached out and grabbed his own cock, squeezing and pumping it, pressing his thumb across the slit. And Steve would say something, but he was beyond words right now. He could hardly speak--could only be fucked on Bucky’s cock.

“Bucky...make me come again, please,” Steve whispered, so soft it was barely heard. He shouldn’t be able to, never did it before, but—Oh God, he felt it, just there, on the edge, he was tipping over. Maybe there was still a hint of magic with Bucky.

Bucky adjusted his grip and banged him harder, the springs squeaking; the headboard slamming into wall--over and over. Steve worked his cock hard, precome spurting on his hand.

“Together.” Bucky gritted out, his short hair was getting damp by his temples, muscles straining--so wild and intense, eyes dark as midnight. Bucky knew what Steve wanted.

Bucky lowered Steve down so he brushed his hand over Steve’s angry red cock with Steve’s, the fullness exploding.  Steve shuttered, so, so close.

It happened on a sobbing cry. Steve’s second orgasm, bigger than the first. His whole body shook, because he can’t, he can’t.  Big tears were rolling down his cheeks, because he was shooting come all over Bucky’s chest. He was done, so tired, his body spent, his limbs limp. Bucky followed with a loud keening wail, and he’s spilling into Steve and leaking out of him, down his thighs, over the bedding. Bucky’s body trembled with his orgasm--skin heated, sweat dripping from his brow. Bucky gently pulled out and collapsed on the bed next to him, cuddling him and kissing his temples. Steve couldn't move, totally spent, but to close his eyes.

“I love you,” Bucky whispered. “With all my heart and soul.”

“I love you, too.” Steve managed to say. Because this was so important. He loved Bucky with all his heart, his bones, his soul. So totally wrung out, Steve drifted off to sleep with Bucky holding so closely, shivering from the touch, together at last.


	7. Art




End file.
